


To Hear Your Voice

by FaeriexQueen



Series: Yulma Week 2020 [4]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: 20th Century, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - War, Alternate Universe - World War I, Caretaking, Coma, Eventual Romance, Hospitals, M/M, Mentions of Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24419026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeriexQueen/pseuds/FaeriexQueen
Summary: In the midst of war, Alma works as a nurse in a field hospital. As countless men are brought in, he soon finds himself tending to a comatose soldier... (WWI AU)
Relationships: Kanda Yuu/Alma Karma
Series: Yulma Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759696
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	To Hear Your Voice

The soldiers brought to the hospital were in unspeakable conditions.  
  
The sight was ghastly. So many soldiers had severe wounds: faces being burnt to near nothing and limbs remaining attached by brittle bone. Some of them didn’t have limbs at all. They were in pieces, with many still conscious and crying out in agony. Their voices were hoarse, leaden with pain and untold terror of whatever they had witnessed on the battlefield. Many cried for mercy. Some cried for death.   
  
Alma felt sick.  
  
He forced himself to ignore the way his gut twisted as a fresh wave of newly wounded soldiers were brought into the hospital room. They were rolled in on stretchers, with nurses and doctors trying to get the soldiers tended to as quickly as possible. Alma rushed to help, aiding one nurse in particular; the soldier on the stretcher was bloodied and bruised. He appeared to have multiple bones broken as they stuck out in nauseating angles.  
  
The soldiers were moved and situated in the large open hospital room. Old metal beds lined the cement walls, most of which were already filled with bodies. Soldiers were being bandaged and tended to by nurses, but some were beyond aid. Their lungs strained as their breaths slowed, their eyes eventually closing until they would open no more. Maybe, some would manage a few final words – a plea for a message to be sent to a loved one, or a request for something as simple as water…  
  
More often than not, the requests were not met. Not in time, at least.  
  
Alma finished helping the nurse with their current patient. The nurse – a younger woman with pale eyes and light blond hair – had already grabbed some sterilization tools and bandages. She started to work on the soldier, before she glanced at Alma. “I can manage this one – go help the others.”  
  
Alma nodded. He took one final glance at the soldier, and went back to the front of the room.  
  
There were three doctors present – all older men in white coats. Two had just dispersed to begin doing rounds of the current patients, with Alma catching the remaining doctor: an older man by the name of Kevin Yeegar.  
  
“Is there anyone else?” Alma asked.  
  
Yeegar paused, and looked around, eyes weary and face drawn. He sighed. “No, I think this is all we have for now,” he said, words heavy. “It’s a shame…so many of these soldiers are in terrible shape…”  
  
Alma’s insides knotted. Yeegar’s words were grave, and Alma wasn’t so naïve as to miss the implication of the doctor’s observation – that more than likely many of the soldiers would not survive.  
  
“We have one more!” another nurse called.  
  
Alma looked over. Another soldier had just been brought in. Like most of the other soldiers, he too was unconscious as he was wheeled in on a stretcher. There was dirt and grime covering his body, blood heavily smeared over the side of his face as well.  
  
“I can take him,” Alma offered, as he took control of the stretcher from the other nurse. “There’s still an empty bed in the back.”  
  
The nurse nodded, and Alma hurriedly wheeled the unconscious soldier to the back of the room to the last vacant bed. He pulled the sheets back quickly, before he carefully worked to move the soldier onto the bed. It was a bit difficult, as the soldier was out cold; however, Alma was able to manage.  
  
Placing the soldier’s head onto the pillow, Alma did a swift check over any visible wounds. There was a nasty gash on the side of the soldier’s head, causing his long, inky dark hair to be matted in blood. There were also some open wounds on his right arm with heavy bruising, and the side of his cheek was also beginning to bruise.  
  
Alma bit his lip, as he grabbed some sterilization supplies and bandages. _‘Looks like blunt trauma…’_  
  
Alma began to clean the dirt off of the wounds first. He didn’t want anything to get infected, and there was so much _grime_ – there was no way the solider would be able to heal if he was covered to the brim in dirt. With this in mind, Alma didn’t waste any time; he scrubbed what he could away with some of the towels and hot water he had, and soon went to work on the wounds.  
  
To Alma’s relief, most of the wounds were surface level and only required bandages. However, two were deeper: the gash on the soldier’s upper right arm, and the wound on the left side of his head.  
  
Stitches. Alma would need to use stitches.  
  
Biting his lips, Alma got the tools he needed next: a sterilized needle and thread. Admittedly, it was one of his least favorite parts of being a nurse. Alma had never enjoyed giving patients stitches.  
  
Cautiously, Alma’s eyes flickered to the soldier’s face. He took a breath before he began to work on the arm.  
  
The soldier didn’t react, completely unconscious. For this, Alma was relieved; the process would go more quickly if the soldier wasn’t squirming.  
  
The arm took only a few minutes, and Alma moved onto the head wound next. As he did, his eyes periodically flickered to the soldier’s face. He was a young man – certainly no older than Alma. He had sharp features and fair, olive skin, and it contrasted sharply with his jet black hair that had been pulled back into a ponytail.  
  
 _‘His family must be worried,’_ Alma thought, as he finished the last of the stitches. _‘He couldn’t have been in the army for long…’_  
  
“Alma, I need you help over here,” a doctor spoke from a few beds away.  
  
Looking up, Alma responded. “I’ll be right there!”  
  
Grabbing his supplies, Alma looked at the soldier one last time. He had been cleaned and stitched up, but that was the most Alma could do as of that time. He wouldn’t be able to help much more or know what else was wrong until the soldier woke up.  
  
In the meantime, Alma would have to help wherever else he could with the other patients.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The next day, the doctors did rounds of the patients. They went by each bed, checking in with those who were conscious and speaking to the nurses on behalf of those who had yet to waken. Some soldiers were coherent, others less so – they were all in pain, with some lashing out at the medical staff and others remaining numb and nonresponsive. The pain and the trauma of their experiences had left them broken, with the greater majority of the soldiers shattered beyond repair.  
  
Alma wanted to think they would be fine. He truly did.  
  
He had come in early, tending to some of soldiers with some of the other nurses. A few soldiers had been more difficulty, with their coherency blurred and their minds trapped on the bloody battlefields that they had been wounded on. Some soldiers kicked, others screamed – it was grueling to keep them calm.  
  
Somehow, the medical staff would manage.  
  
By noon, Alma was exhausted. He had already been at work for six solid hours, having not had anything to eat since 6:00AM and not having a moment to himself. However, the wing had finally calmed down; most soldiers who were conscious had been soothed, and the doctors were doing additional rounds to check the status of everyone. To get names. To find out information about families.  
  
Alma sighed, as he walked over to the back of the room. The doctors were still working through everyone, and hadn’t come to the patients in the back yet – and they hadn’t come to the one unconscious soldier that Alma had stitched up the previous day.  
  
Bringing a stool near the bed, Alma sat down. His eyes moved over the soldier. Alma had managed to check on him twice already, though both times had been brief – the soldier had never once stirred, nor had he given any signs of consciousness. He had only remained still.  
  
Alma’s eyes were leaden with concern. Very gingerly, he brought his hand to the soldier’s forehead; he wasn’t warm, but again there was no response.  
  
 _‘He hasn’t opened his eyes once, but he’s still breathing…’_ Alma thought, before he exhaled.  
  
Yeegar walked over to the back, his attention falling on Alma and the soldier. “Has he woken up at all?”  
  
Alma shook his head. He looked up at Yeegar. “He’s been unconscious ever since he was brought in yesterday.” Alma turned back toward the soldier worriedly. “He had a really bad gash on his head though, and it looks like it was blunt trauma…”  
  
Yeagar pressed his lips together. He walked over a bit more closely to where the soldier was before he began to do a few routine checks. The doctor started with the soldier’s pulse, then moved on to test for a few reflexes. When nothing came of it, he sighed as he stepped back.  
  
“I’m afraid this one may be in a coma,” Yeagar said, as he looked to Alma sympathetically. “It’s likely he’ll never wake up again.”  
  
Alma looked up, expression stricken with worry. “What? But…but he’s not…”  
  
Alma trailed off, throat going dry. He knew that this was only to be expected: that many soldiers would die, despite whatever attempt was made to save them. He knew that it was a part of war.  
  
However, something about this soldier’s fate pained Alma. It painted him greatly.  
  
Noticing Alma’s distress, Yeegar spoke gently. “There’s nothing we can do for him at this point. We can keep him as long as we can – but if we need more beds, we’ll probably have to let him go.”  
  
Alma bit his lip and nodded his head.  
  
Yeegar placed a hand on Alma’s shoulder, and squeezed it reassuringly. “You’ve been working for a while now – the other nurses can fill in while you take a break.”  
  
Again, Alma nodded. He felt Yeegar release his grip, with the doctor moving on to check on another soldier.  
  
Alma didn’t get up just yet. He lingered, still seated on the stool as he looked over the unconscious soldier attentively.  
  
Very gently, Alma took the soldier’s hand. He was incredibly careful as he did so, with his own fingers running against the coarse digits of the soldier’s.  
  
“You’ll be okay,” Alma spoke quietly. He then offered a small smile at the soldier, as he tenderly squeezed his hand. “You’ll wake up – I know you will.”  
  
It was strange. Alma wasn’t certain as to what was spurning him to say such things. Being a nurse, he knew firsthand how likely death was to come in these situations. He knew how realistic it was. This soldier was no different than most; he was young, as many soldiers were, and had experience horrendous wounds. It was unlikely that he would make a full recovery.  
  
Yet, Alma couldn’t believe this. For some reason, he couldn’t.  
  
After a moment, Alma lowered the soldier’s hand back onto the bed. His blue eyes scanned over the soldier, a somewhat wistful look flickering across his expression.  
  
Before Alma could linger any longer, he stood and left the soldier to be – just as a small twitch could be seen in the soldier’s fingertips.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The next few days, Alma tended to the unconscious soldier.  
  
There was not much that Alma could necessarily do. The soldier had still yet to waken, and at most Alma could only change his bandages regularly and periodically check on the stitches. To Alma’s relief, things appeared to be healing well; already some of the gashes were starting to close up, and some of the bruises were beginning to lighten.  
  
If anything, this gave Alma some hope. Perhaps the soldier would heal after all.  
  
Alma couldn’t spend all of his time tending to the soldier. He of course had to help with the other patients, assisting with their needs and ensuring that they were also on their way to recovery. Some were doing well, others not so much – the days were often so long and tedious.  
  
Yet, Alma held on. He held on as he did his best, doing what he could for all of the patients – even when it didn’t seem like enough.  
  
By the end of the third day since the wave of soldiers had been brought in, Alma was exhausted. He had hardly slept, with the previous night having been rough. One soldier in particular had worsened, with a nasty infection in their right arm. The end result had needed to be amputation, with Alma having had to be present to help. On top of that, he had needed to be available for a full day after, his body weary and eyelids heavy by the time evening fell.  
  
Despite this, Alma couldn’t allow himself to retreat to his room in the hospital just yet.  
  
Alma had gotten some dinner but left the cafeteria soon after. Despite the late hour, he only stopped by his room briefly, taking an old book before he found himself wandering back toward the room where the soldiers had been. Since the hospital was a smaller one, Alma managed to get there pretty quickly. Inside several lamplights had been lit, as they casted a warm glow on the walls, and a small handful of nurses were on standby for the evening shift.  
  
Quietly, Alma walked inside. One of the nurses quickly took note of his presence. She was a middle-aged with dark brown hair and brown eyes, which filled with curiosity as she approached Alma.  
  
“Alma,” the nurse started. “Alma, didn’t you work all day? You should be going to bed before tomorrow.”  
  
Alma smiled somewhat sheepishly, as he held the book he had brought with him close to his chest. “Ah, I know. I just wanted to check on one of the soldiers first.”  
  
The nurse smiled gently at Alma. “Just make sure you get some rest. Most of the soldiers are asleep now.”  
  
Alma nodded. “I’ll make sure to be quiet.”  
  
The nurse let Alma be after that, and his eyes skimmed the room briefly. As the nurse had stated, most soldiers were asleep, with only one or two appearing to be awake. Those soldiers were being attended to by the remaining nurses, who were speaking gently words of comfort into the soldiers’ ears as they attempted to lull them back to sleep.  
  
With this in mind, Alma kept his steps light as he walked toward the back of the room. He didn’t stop until he reached the end where the last soldier was – the one who had yet to awaken.  
  
Grabbing the metal stool, Alma gently pulled it close so that he was seated beside the soldier’s bed.   
  
Alma placed the book on his lap, his eyes flickering to the soldier. As always, the soldier was still; his eyes were closed and his expression strangely calm. In a way, he looked only as though he were in a deep sleep – stolen away from consciousness and trapped in some realm where he couldn’t be reached.  
  
 _‘It’s been three full days now,’_ Alma thought. _‘And he still hasn’t woken up…’_  
  
A slight pang could be felt in Alma’s chest, but he forced it down. Instead, Alma smiled at the unconscious soldier, eyes warm.  
  
“You must get pretty bored having to lie here like this,” Alma said. “I’m sorry it’s not more exciting – but then again, you do need the rest.”  
  
His tone was light and conversational – yet of course it was only met by silence. No matter what Alma said, the soldier wouldn’t respond.  
  
Despite this, Alma continued. He clutched at the book he had been keeping in his lap, as he held it up to his chest. “I actually thought you might want to read something? Er, listen to something being read at least.” His tone was somewhat sheepish, as he laughed at his own words. “I probably sound silly asking – I don’t even know if you can hear anything I’m saying.”  
  
Again, the soldier gave no indication of heaving heard Alma. But Alma continued.  
  
Opening the book, Alma glanced through it. It was actually a book of fairytales – one that Alma had owned since he was a child. The pages were faded and worn, but the book itself was still intact. Alma had always done well to take care of it.  
  
Flipping through the contents, Alma glanced back at the soldier. “I know I can’t exactly ask what you’d like, but fairytales are always nice. I used to read them from this book when I was little, and I still do sometimes,” he said. “We could read some of the stories in here. Maybe it’ll help you wake up?”  
  
As Alma said this, there was a small, hopeful flutter he felt in his chest. It was one that he almost wanted to quell; Alma knew he had to be careful about how optimistic he could get. He knew he had to be careful about hoping for too much.  
  
Alma told himself this, but it was ultimately easier said than done.  
  
“I know you might not want to wake up,” he spoke, words now quieter. “It must have been really terrible seeing what you did out there…”  
  
Alma paused, before taking a small breath. “I’m sure there are people who are hoping you’ll wake up though – your family must really miss you.” His words remained gentle, as he looked at the soldier sadly. “I’d be happy too, if you’d wake up – it’d mean so much to see you’re okay.”  
  
The last few words slipped out, with Alma not even registering them until they had been spoken. A somewhat abashed look crossed his features, as he laughed quietly to himself in embarrassment.  
  
“Sorry – I’m rambling too much now,” Alma apologized. He readjusted his seating position, as he refocused on the fairytale book. “I actually should read like I said I would – how about this one? It’s about a sleeping curse – kind of fitting, right?”  
  
The humor went unnoticed, but Alma wasn’t bothered. Instead his eyes wandered to the page as he started to read softly.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
For a few more days, Alma continued to visit the soldier in the evenings. He always took his book with him to read a few stories from it, usually one or two at a time. It may have been viewed as silly or unnecessary by some of other nurses, but Alma didn’t mind. He enjoyed his time reading to the solider, and would often pause to talk about his thoughts during the story. Alma just found it so easy to chatter along – and sometimes, it almost felt like someone was actually listening.  
  
Alma liked to think that the soldier might have heard him. Somehow.  
  
By this point, it was just short of a week that had passed since the current patients had been brought in. In the midst of everything, some of the soldiers had started to get transferred to other facilities. Some required more special rehabilitation, others needed more complex surgical procedures. It was a difficult process to move them, but it needed to be done. Ultimately, more soldiers would come into the field hospital, and the medical staff would need beds ready.  
  
The need came sooner than expected. By the end of the week, the medical staff received word of several soldiers that were in transit to be delivered to the hospital the following day. As a result, all empty beds would be needed – and any beds that could be cleared out, would need to be.  
  
It wasn’t long before Alma heard this – and he learned that the soldier he had been tending to the most would need to be relocated to a different hospital as well.  
  
“He has to go?” Alma asked, the question coming out in something akin to a choke. He was currently standing near the back of the room where the soldiers were, as he had just been checking on the soldier’s stitches. Yeegar had caught Alma though, and told him the news then.  
  
Yeegar’s eyes remained somber. “It’s been a week, Alma. He hasn’t woken up yet,” he tried to explain. “There’s nothing more we can do for him, and we’re going to need additional beds.”  
  
Alma’s chest tightened. He didn’t say anything immediately; it wasn’t as though he could argue with Yeegar. The doctor was right in that they _would_ need every bed they could make available, and since the soldier hadn’t woken up once…  
  
It was logical, and practically a part of protocol. Yet something inside Alma’s chest cracked at the thought.  
  
His gaze flickering over to the solder, Alma spoke. “It’s just…maybe if he had another day or two-“  
  
Yeegar sighed. “Alma, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “But he needs to be moved tomorrow. Even if he wakes up before then, we can’t give preferential treatment.”  
  
Alma winced, the word _preferential_ clipping at his ears. He knew that as a nurse he was supposed to be unbiased in his decisions. It wasn’t professional to show favoritism, as it could easily cloud one’s judgment. However, Alma just…couldn’t help it in this case. He didn’t even understand why, but…  
  
Swallowing, Alma’s eyes once more shifted to the soldier. He nodded quietly.  
  
Yeegar placed a hand on Alma’s shoulder. “He’ll have someone to get him in the morning – but it’s already going to be evening soon, and your shift is almost over,” the doctor reminded Alma. “You should get some rest tonight. Tomorrow will be a long day with having to situate the new patients.”  
  
Again, Alma nodded. “Okay.”  
  
Yeegar left Alma after that. Alma’s attention was still on the soldier though, his heart heavy as he thought about how the soldier would be taken elsewhere. Alma realized it had been inevitable. Comas were terrifying and unpredictable, and so many times patients never…  
  
They never woke up. They never opened their eyes again.  
  
The thought caused Alma’s throat to run dry. Unable to stop himself, Alma took a seat beside the soldier’s bed, scooting the stool close so that Alma was near the soldier. His eyes lingered on the soldier’s face, which once more reminded Alma of someone who was merely asleep – of someone who was just a little too far, and out of reach.  
  
Alma bit the inside of his cheek before he spoke. “I know it’s probably not easy to wake up,” he started. “But…they’re going to have to move you tomorrow. They said it’s because we need more beds, and you’re not getting the help you need here.”  
  
As Alma spoke, he felt his heart turn leaden and his chest tremor. But why was he getting so emotional? He didn’t actually know the soldier. He had only tended to him for a week. And while Alma had been sad to see other patients go in the past, he had certainly never been as… _sad_ as he was now.  
  
He had never felt this sad to see someone go.  
  
Somehow, the realization caused a small twitch of a smile to tug at his lips, though his heart remained heavy. “I’m really sorry. I couldn’t actually help you like you needed,” he apologized softly. “I was really hoping you’d wake up – it’d have been nice to learn more about you.”  
  
There was a pause, as Alma watched the soldier. Naturally no response was made.  
  
“Maybe, you’ll get better soon – you could still wake up, right?” Alma went on, words a little shaky. “I mean, I know the world can seem dark, but there really is so much good in it. There’s nature, all the pretty cities, and the _sky_ …”  
  
Alma trailed off. He meant what he said: there were so many beautiful things about the world to behold. There were so many things to see. But, war marred that; it made it difficult to remember, and made it so difficult to breathe.  
  
Gingerly, Alma’s hand brushed over the soldier’s. His fingers wrapped around slowly as he took the soldier’s hand.  
  
“Just…wake up soon, alright?” Alma continued, as he gently squeezed at the soldier’s hand. “Even if I’m not there to meet you, just…just _please_ wake up…”  
  
Alma waited, but the soldier did not stir. He did not move, and he did not flinch.  
  
A wave of defeat befell Alma. Shoulders slumping, he slowly released his grip on the soldier’s hand.  
  
The soldier wasn’t waking up, and Alma hadn’t been able to help him.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
_Wherever he was, it was dark. It was dark, and it was quiet.  
  
He wasn’t certain as to how long he was there for. It felt like a long time though. The hours stretched on endlessly, with nothing but a dark void encompassing his senses. Everything was so quiet, and so strange: there was only an eternal abyss to keep him company. There was only darkness.  
  
He hated it.  
  
He didn’t know why at first. But he felt angry. He felt _hurt _. It was a deep, cutting sensation that burned into his core; it was so scathing and so vicious that it nearly left him numb, his body motionless and his senses dulled. But the pain lingered, and it made him so_ angry _…  
  
_ Men screaming. Guns firing. Rain pouring down into the muddy, filthy trenches as men were shot down one by one. They were shot down, and eventually something had been fired at _him_ …  
 _  
It was dark, and it was difficult to breathe.  
  
He wanted to move. He wanted to scream. What had happened? He remembered his arm being hit, and being knocked back. Something sharp and nasty had knocked into the side of his head, throwing him into the mud before he had lost all consciousness.  
  
After that, it was blank.  
  
He made an effort to move – to reach out, to stand, _anything _. However, he was not able to do so. The realization only angered him even more. Damn it, why couldn’t he just_ move _?  
  
Breathe. He had to remember to breathe.  
  
He was left to remain in that darkness for an indistinguishable amount of time. Maybe hours. Maybe days. For the most part, it was silent – though occasionally he thought he would hear something. A distant echo of someone speaking, incoherent whispers…  
  
Then, he heard them. He heard _that _person.  
  
They had a gentle voice. A gentle, sweet voice. They talked a lot too, and at first, he was a bit annoyed. Just who was this person? What were they going on about?  
  
But, the voice continued. Sometimes it would disappear, but it would always come back. It would come back, and that person would speak softly, so much that he thought he could hear a slight smile in their words.  
  
Eventually, he realized that the person was speaking to him.  
  
They always asked about him. They asked about his day, and if he was feeling better. At times, this frustrated him; he couldn’t respond, and he couldn’t indicate he was even listening. This had to have been the case because the person even acknowledged it.  
  
_“I know you can’t hear me…but I like to think that maybe you could. It must be hard feel trapped like you probably do…”  
  
 _They went on like this. Speaking. Chattering. Sometimes, they would even read stories – fairytales, of all things. Silly, frivolous fairytales…  
  
They always read to him though. And soon enough, he began to get used to it.  
  
_‘Who are you…’ _he wondered._ ‘Who…’ _  
  
He wanted to ask. He wanted to know who that person was with the gentle voice, and who cared enough to read to him and to speak to him as though he were awake. He wanted to know who this person was.  
  
But eventually, the person stopped reading. And eventually, they said something that cut into his chest like a knife..  
  
_“But…they’re going to have to move you tomorrow. They said it’s because we need more beds, and you’re not getting the help you need here.”  
  
 _What? No,_ no _– where would he have to be moved to? He didn’t_ want _to be moved anywhere. He wanted to stay where that person was-  
  
_ “I’m really sorry. I couldn’t actually help you like you needed. I was really hoping you’d wake up – it’d have been nice to learn more about you.” _  
  
No. No, damn it. It wasn’t that easy – he couldn’t wake up, but if he didn’t he’d never know who that person was. He’d never know…  
  
_ “Maybe, you’ll get better soon – you could still wake up, right? I mean, I know the world can seem dark, but there really is so much good in it. There’s nature, all the pretty cities, and the _sky_ …”  
  
 _They made it sound so easy. Waking up. Living life. How were they able to do this? Couldn’t they understand that he_ couldn’t _wake up? It made him so angry, and the person sounded so_ sad…  
  
“Just…wake up soon, alright? Even if I’m not there to meet you, just…just _please_ wake up…”  
  
 _He wanted to wake up. God, he wanted to wake up_ so badly _. He wanted to see the sky, and he wanted to see that person…  
  
Distantly, he thought he could feel someone hold his hand._  
  
‘Don’t,’ _he wanted to say._ ‘Don’t go…’ _  
  
However, the hand let go, and soon he no longer heard the gentle voice of that person.  
  
_

* * *

  
  
Over a month had passed since the soldier was transferred to a different hospital location.  
  
Alma tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about the soldier who had never awakened, and who had been unknowingly shipped off to some other location. He tried not to think about how he’d never know what had become of the soldier, and if he ever would open his eyes again. If he’d ever wake up, and see the sky.  
  
Alma tried not to think about it, but it was easier said than done.  
  
He took a breath as he tended to another patient – another soldier, with a broken arm and some cracked ribs. The poor man had been so beaten and bruised when he had arrived a few days ago, and Alma had done his best to be especially gentle when handling him.  
  
Carefully, Alma helped the man with his sling. He smiled gently. “How’s your arm today?”  
  
The man grimaced, though he attempted to manage a smile in return. “Hurts, but it’s fine. The sling helps.”  
  
Alma beamed. “Good! It seems like it’s already starting to do better – Dr. Yeegar will be coming by a little later to more thoroughly evaluate it.”  
  
The man nodded, and Alma left him after that.  
  
There were a few more patients Alma needed to check on. He did so thoroughly, making sure that each patient was well-accounted for with any needs met. For the most part, the patients were doing well; even the ones with more severe wounds were at the very least on their way to recovery.  
  
Alma stopped by one bed, as he checked on some stitches for another patient. The wound had been deep, with a wretched gash cutting deeply into their abdomen. However, the skin looked as though it were finally beginning to close up. If all went well, Alma would be able to cut the stitches out in a week.  
  
He cleaned and rewrapped the wound for the patient. The process was an easy one and it only took a few moments. However, as Alma finished up, he found his eyes flickering over to the bed near the end of the room; it was empty, with its most recent patient having just been discharged the day prior.  
  
It was also the same bed that the comatose soldier had once slept in.  
  
A sharp pang pierced Alma’s chest, and he bit the inside of his cheek. He refocused on the current patient as he worked to complete rebandaging the man’s torso; once he did, Alma gave a quick smile and let the patient be.  
  
As Alma left the back of the room, he noticed near the front that some of the supplies were low. It looked like a fair amount of cloths had been used, and the water basin they kept filled was also low. Taking the basin, Alma looked at one of the other nurses as he spoke. “I’ll go refill this – I can get some more cloths while I’m doing that.”  
  
The nurse nodded in appreciation. “Thank you.”  
  
Alma smiled, and took his leave.  
  
Once he was in the corridor, Alma started toward the other end of the building was. It was a bit inconvenient that so much storage was on that end, but thankfully the hospital was small and it wouldn’t take long. Perhaps it would be a few minutes at best.  
  
“Look, can’t you just fucking let me in?”  
  
Alma stopped, the voice nipping at his ears sharply. It was a deep voice, and was unfamiliar to Alma. Somewhat confusedly, he made a turn as he followed it toward the front doors of the hospital – just where he could see a nurse speaking to someone outside.  
  
“I’m sorry,” the nurse said, tone exasperated. “But we simply can’t allow you where the patients are. We have a lot of people situated there right now, and unless you’re looking to be admitted there’s nothing I can do.”  
  
A small frown appeared on Alma’s face. Someone was trying to get into the hospital? It was a bit strange – they weren’t near any city and were a bit farther out in the country. It was peculiar that anyone would come by rather than go to their local village infirmary.  
  
“But I was _here_ – I need to look around!” the person argued.  
  
Alma walked over to where the nurse was. She looked as though she were about to open her mouth to say something but stopped as soon as she noticed Alma.  
  
“Is everything okay?” Alma asked, as he walked over. As he did, his eyes flickered toward the person standing outside the door.  
  
His breath hitched in his throat instantly.  
  
It was the soldier – the very same soldier that Alma had tended to. However, he was awake and standing, with his long dark hair pulled back and civilian clothes adorning his body rather than the muddy, worn soldier uniform that Alma had last seen him in. But it was definitely _him_. Alma recognized the smooth lines of his face too well, but oh, his eyes were open and they were such a deep and pretty _blue_ …  
  
The nurse looked back at Alma as she sighed. “I’m sorry – this young man was trying to get to the patients’ wing. I told him we simply can’t let anyone wander back there.”  
  
“Look, I said I was treated here-“ the soldier began to argue once more.  
  
“Let me deal with this,” Alma quickly offered. He then held out the water basin to the nurse. “Could you please refill this? I was supposed to get some fresh water, and get more cloths to put in the patients’ wing.”  
  
The nurse paused. She looked a bit wary about leaving Alma alone with the soldier, but finally nodded before she went off with the basin.  
  
Then, Alma was left alone with the soldier.  
  
The realization slammed into Alma – so much that he almost felt dazed. As he looked at the soldier, Alma couldn’t even bring himself to speak. He could only stare, somewhat in awe, as he looked upon the very face that he had but a month ago feared would never awaken. _‘It’s…really him…’  
  
_ As Alma stared, the soldier frowned. His brow furrowed as he glared at Alma. “What are you staring at?”  
  
Alma blinked as he snapped from his trance. Closing his mouth, he attempted to speak. “You’re…you woke up.”  
  
The soldier stilled, somewhat caught off guard as his glare momentarily faltered. However, he swiftly tried to catch himself as his frown returned. “What?”  
  
“You were here before – that’s what you were telling the other nurse, right?” Alma went on, his voice soon turning a bit more excitable. “I’m so relieved! You wouldn’t wake up while you were being taken care of here, and I had no idea what happened after they transferred you.”  
  
Again, the soldier seemed somewhat taken aback. He didn’t get a chance to speak before Alma went on.  
  
“Is there something you need? Is that why you came back?” Alma asked, before a more worried edge took to his words. “You didn’t have a problem with the stitches, did you? I know they were still in when you got transferred, but the cuts were really deep…”  
  
The soldier tried to keep up, though he still appeared to be at a lost. His brow furrowed in bewilderment as he tried to better understand Alma’s rambling. “I…the stitches were fine,” he finally managed. “They got taken out after I woke up two weeks ago.”  
  
While speaking, the soldier’s eyes lingered on Alma. A strange, wary look lingered in them – one that Alma didn’t quite understand. But the soldier went on, expression a tiny bit curious.  
  
“You…put the stitches there?”  
  
Alma nodded, and averted his gaze. For whatever reason, he was hit with an unexpected bit of shyness, with his heart thudding in his chest rapidly. “Y-Yeah. I…I was the one who took care of you while you were here.”  
  
To this, the soldier didn’t say anything. That strange look only continued to simmer in his eyes though as something pensive flickered across his expression.  
  
A bit anxiously, Alma looked up. The soldier hadn’t said anything else and it made him nervous. “So…you wanted to go to the patients’ wing?” Alma asked. “I’m sorry about what the other nurse said, but she is right in that we can’t really let others back there unless they’re patients. They’re so many open wounds…”  
  
The soldier looked back at Alma swiftly. “Tch. It’s fine,” he grumbled. “It was probably fucking stupid to come…”  
  
Hearing this, Alma’s expression fell. “I’m really sorry…did you come a long way? Are you staying close?” he asked. Alma knew that there was a village a few miles away with a small inn – could the soldier have been staying there? “I know you can’t look around like you wanted to, but maybe if you told me why you came, I could help. Did you need something?”  
  
The soldier hesitated. It appeared as though there was something lingering on the tip of his tongue, but no words came out and the pause stretched between them.  
  
Alma shifted. He was beginning to get a bit uncomfortable and wondered if perhaps this was too much for the soldier. The soldier just seemed so wary now – had Alma said something wrong? The thought caused a fresh wave of worry to befall him.  
  
“Someone would speak to me while I was here.”  
  
Alma looked back at the soldier. The words had been spoken in a slightly softer tone, which was strange considering how abrasive the soldier appeared. However, when Alma looked at the soldier he could again see that strange shift if his expression, as his next words were formed with an odd strain of caution.  
  
The soldier continued. “I heard someone…I couldn’t respond but I heard them. Someone always rambling on and asking how I was…they even read to me and shit…” he mumbled. “Had no idea who they were…”  
  
Alma remained still. A shocked look had appeared on his mouth, his mouth slightly agape as the soldier spoke.  
  
“I…” Alma tried to say, but the words stubbornly refused to come out. His throat was too dry, and his heart was palpitating wildly.  
  
The soldier looked at Alma. His eyes were particularly sharp, his next words striking Alma like a bolt of electricity. “It was you, wasn’t it?”  
  
Heartbeat. Alma’s heartbeat was still racing – god, why was it racing so much? Why was he suddenly so _nervous_?  
  
“I,” Alma started again, as he quickly averted his gaze. “I…I didn’t realize you could hear…”  
  
The soldier’s eyes remained on Alma. Then, he looked away as well. “It’s fine…I didn’t mind it…” he said, the last part coming out in a smaller murmur, as his gaze flickered to Alma briefly. “Thanks.”  
  
As soon as the soldier said this, Alma looked at him and smiled warmly.  
  
There was another pause – somewhat awkward as it extended on. The soldier shifted and spoke. “I should head back…”  
  
Alma’s heart fell a bit, the thought of the soldier’s departure once more weighing on him heavily. Before the soldier could say anything else, Alma spoke. “Were you staying in the village that’s south of here?”  
  
The soldier nodded. “Just for the night.”  
  
Alma shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his pulse once more quickening nervously as he felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “Um, well…if you’re not leaving until tomorrow…maybe you could come by before you go? If you want to,” Alma said, as he smiled shyly. “I don’t get much time off from working here, but it’d be nice to see you off…or keep in touch.”  
  
The soldier blinked. He wavered, and for a moment Alma feared that perhaps the soldier would refuse. However, the soldier nodded his head slowly. “Alright.”  
  
To this, Alma beamed. His heart had suddenly taken on the weight of a feather as something excitable flipped in his stomach – just before he remembered one crucial detail.  
  
“Oh – I’m so silly, I never even told you my name,” he realized. “It’s Alma. What’s yours?”  
  
The soldier’s ears burned, as he too recognized the blatant folly on his end. “It’s Kanda,” he said. Then, as an afterthought he added, “My last name, anyways. My first name is Yuu.”  
  
 _‘Yuu,’_ Alma silently repeated, the name already registering a sweet fondness in his ears. His smile remained as his eyes shone brightly.  
  
“Yuu,” Alma repeated aloud, the warmth spilling into his words. “I’m glad to have finally met you.”  
  
To this, Kanda’s lips twitched upward into the faintest hint of a smile – one that sent a fresh wave of butterflies fluttering throughout Alma’s chest. “Me too.”  
  
Alma’s smile stretched further, his eyes sparkling with joy.  
  
Alma wasn’t sure what had happened. He hadn’t had any idea that Kanda had been able to hear him, or that Kanda would even think to come back. In a way, it felt surreal – almost like one of the fairytale stories that Alma had read to Kanda while he was in a coma.  
  
But whatever had happened, Alma was glad it did. And he was glad to have finally met Kanda.

**Author's Note:**

> Yulma Week 2020 Day 4, Sagitta: Pain | Suffering | Perseverance | Triumph | Release 
> 
> I had an itch to do something in that WWI timeframe, specifically between a nurse and wounded soldier (I blame Downton Abbey for it). This seemed like a good opportunity for it - I’ve always had a weakness for wounded characters being tended to, and the thought of someone being able to hear speech while in a comatose state has always interested me.
> 
> Sort of a soft and sweet AU - I hope you liked it! 
> 
> Please don’t forget to leave comments - it means a lot to see them, and know my stories are appreciated. <3 (Give me incentive to write more!)


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